


When the War is Done

by shakespeas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cuddling, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Making Up, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Violence, because they're dumbasses, blade of marmora, broganes, keith and lance get stuck in an elevator, klance, kolivan is a Huge Ass™, they/them pronouns for Pidge, war flashbacks... literally, what else can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeas/pseuds/shakespeas
Summary: Click.Keith feels his entire world crash and burn around him, then immediately build itself back up, good as new. “No way,” he whispers. His heart rabbits desperately, hopefully, clinging to a realization that has snapped into place in his mind. His head pounds with this realization, this discovery, and Keith knows that everything is about to change.After five long years of fighting an intergalactic battle alongside the Blade of Marmora, Keith finds himself back in the Castle of Lions-but nothing is the same anymore, and the war-torn soldier is not prepared for anything that he finds in the place he called ‘home’.





	1. take this off my shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> note: there is some violence but it’s not too bad (trust me i can't write that shit). nevertheless if you want to skip it, stop reading at “Kolivan’s features shift into indescribable fury” and start at “ _Not like this,_ Keith thinks”.
> 
> EDIT 12/16/18: i recently went back and completely revamped the story, but since i started editing it before s8 came out it doesn’t line up with the recent canon at all. this story was originally written after the release of s4 and it doesn’t follow the events in the seasons afterwards (hence kolivan's dumbassery, as you will witness soon). what does follow canon is _extremely_ outdated. nonetheless, i worked hard on this fic so i hope you can enjoy it anyway! we can just pretend this story takes place in another reality, yeah? :’D

_"You are damaged and broken and unhinged;  
but so are shooting stars and comets."_  
-Nikita Gill

━━━

When Keith stumbles into the Castle of Lions bruised, battered and teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, the only thought that sits in his mind is _I’m home._

Keith gazes through half-lidded eyes at the familiar pristine walls of the Castle, squinting against the glare of the cyan accents lighting the area. He’s in the control room; the chairs in which each paladin sits to plot courses and monitor defense systems are currently deserted. The only sounds that penetrate the air are Keith’s raspy, haggard breaths.

“Hello? Coran? Allura?” Keith questions weakly. He is met with only stark, cold silence. Everything is too still. For a fleeting moment, Keith wonders if the castleship even belongs to the Altean princess and her royal advisor anymore. It’s been so long since the ebony-haired male last caught a glimpse of any of his former teammate’s faces that he can barely remember the details on each one; who’s to say those faces even dwell here now? The thought fills the weathered soldier’s heart with an ache stronger than any of the wounds he carries on his skin.

Just then, Keith picks up on a muffled voice, coming into hearing range just outside the control room. It speaks animatedly, that much Keith can tell, and it appears to be engaged in a lively conversation with itself. The voice is too far away for Keith to determine whose it is, but the sound is unfamiliar nonetheless. It grows closer and closer with each passing second until it stops just outside the closed door on the other side of the control room. Keith’s heart rabbits as he sucks in a shaky breath. 

The door slides open, and in saunters one of the tallest humans Keith has ever seen. The stranger has yet to notice Keith, whistling merrily as he unhurriedly makes his way to the entrance to the Red Lion’s hangar, if Keith remembers correctly. The stranger is dressed in a loose periwinkle t-shirt and black jeans. A faded denim jacket sits tied around his waist. His entire body is lanky and thin, but Keith spots wiry muscles shaping his bare arms under the sleeves of his shirt. His legs look 2 stories tall. Keith only stares, slightly dumbfounded. Then his eyes trail up to the stranger’s face and he panics. 

Keith barely suppresses a humiliating sound when he spots the stranger’s features because _Holy hell, he’s attractive._ Without a second thought, Keith ducks behind the main control panel that Coran would normally be stationed, ignoring the sharp, dizzying pain in his side as he does so. The ebony-haired male lowers himself to a sitting position and waits. When his pulse calms to a partially acceptable pace, Keith dares to poke his head out from behind the panel. _Jesus Christ, who is this guy?_

The stranger’s caramel skin is baby smooth and almost shines under the intensity of the neon lights in the room. A slender neck leads to a sharp jawline and painfully defined cheekbones. The stranger’s hair is styled in an undercut, a dark rich brown at the shaved base working up to light tawny waves at the top; but the most prominent features on his face are his eyes. Keith can’t help but stare at the sharp sapphire pools with barely contained awe. They sparkle with warmth and the knowledge of a million jokes untold, and Keith can’t help but feel as if he knows these eyes. 

Then, the stranger is turning around with no warning. Keith whips his head back behind the panel, trying to will himself as small as a mouse. His heart hammers against his ribcage. It’s too late. Curious footsteps are briskly making their way closer, closer, closer until they stop on the other side of the main control panel. Keith hunches his shoulders and squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could’ve had the confidence to make himself known to the stranger from the start. _But he’s so beautiful,_ the irrational part of Keith’s brain protests, much to the ebony-haired male’s chagrin. _You don’t just_ talk _to beautiful people._ When the stranger rounds the corner of the panel and halts in his steps right in front of Keith, all he’s is thinking is _Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful._

Shock leaps onto the stranger’s face. His beautiful, beautiful eyes widen and his mouth forms a beautiful, beautiful O. “Wha-Marmor-Who-?!” He splutters, scrambling backwards. Keith lets out a small, helpless sound, cheeks flushing. Upon being brought to his senses by the sight of the stranger standing right in front of him, all the adrenaline pounding through Keith’s veins dissipates and the pain it has been keeping at bay floods back, engulfing every inch of his body. Keith lets out a strangled gasp as he suddenly becomes hyperaware of every tiny scratch, every sickly-coloured bruise, every aching blemish marked into his skin. He clutches his side, where blood is trickling out of a particularly large wound, and coughs weakly.

The stranger gasps at the indigo Marmoran suit that clings uncomfortably to Keith’s body, growing increasingly soaked with an alarming shade of crimson. The stranger descends on Keith, lifting him up by the armpits and slinging one of his arms around his shoulder. “You-You’re really hurt,” the stranger stutters lamely. The two of them begin to make their way towards the door, moving at a snail’s pace. 

Keith bites his tongue to prevent himself from screaming every time he is jostled. “No shit, Sherlock,” he mutters, after a long pause. 

The stranger lets out a laboured huff at the half-hearted quip. “This… is not the time for sarcasm,” he grits out. “We need to get you to the healing pods.” 

Ah. Keith vaguely wonders what being in one is like. _I never did get to use one during my time at the castle,_ he reminisces offhandedly, watching his vision go hazy for a moment. The duo stagger down a wide hallway until they reach a door carved into the left wall. It slides open upon their arrival, revealing the med bay and its familiar circle of cryopods, none of which are in use. The stranger half-walks, half-drags Keith to the closest pod and hurriedly punches a button on its exterior that causes the protective glass to shimmer away with a hiss of cold air. “Quick, get in.” The stranger escorts Keith into the pod and soon, the ebony-haired male’s eyelids are drooping as a numbing cold overtakes his body. The last thing he sees is the stranger’s face; worried and apprehensive, distorted through the glass.

━━━

_Keith crouches on the ground of the small podship, desperately trying to pull air into his lungs. Looming above him is Kolivan in all of his glowering, 8-foot intimidation. The commander of the Blade of Marmora narrows his harsh, golden eyes when Keith finally lifts his head to look to him for comment. “You cannot continue doing this,” Kolivan begins gruffly. His mouth is a thin, dissatisfied line. “How many times have we gone over the most basic, most crucial rule of the Blade? Do not regard your fellow Marmorites on a mission unless communication is absolutely essential for the operation. Focus on your task and your task only. Must I remind you of this every time I trust you on a mission? You have not been learning from your repeated mistakes, even after-”_

_“-Shut up,” Keith interjects. Kolivan stiffens. “You can’t lecture me about this, not when he was one of your best soldiers-”_

_“Of course I can,” Kolivan cuts in, with not a shred of forgiveness on his rugged face. “We have hundreds of soldiers. Cabez was only an insignificant one among them all.”_

_Keith’s face contorts with anger. “So what you’re saying is I’m not dispensable, but Cabez is? That I shouldn’t even try to make an effort to save him when he’s in danger? What makes my life any more precious than his? We’re all equal, Kolivan. No one just-just deserves to live more than another.”_

_Kolivan growls in frustration. “Even after all this time, you still do not comprehend,” he grits out. “There are hundreds of soldiers in the Blade. If one were to perish, there are more than enough others that make up for them.” He speaks pseudo-patiently, as if teaching a small child a large lesson._

_Keith snaps. “There was only one Cabez!” He snarls. “There could be millions of soldiers, but each one of them is different. None of them are dispensable. You can’t just throw away their lives like-like they don’t mean anything!” After a pause, Keith adds shakily, “It’s never how Team Voltron worked. And we achieved more in three months functioning on that rule than you did in ten thousand years.”_

_He’s hit a nerve. At his words, Kolivan roars in fury, all signs of diplomacy dissipating within his rage. “You are young, and brash, and naive!” The Blade commander bellows. “You do not understand how little a single life matters in this war! Every soldier should be prepared to sacrifice their lives at any given moment, regardless of any connections they have to others! When will you learn, child?”_

_Keith’s gaze is stormy, swirling and roiling within his dark indigo irises. “I thought that was true once,” he states firmly. “I thought I was dispensable. I was ready to give up my life. But I realized that that is the very definition of brash and naive. Not this; not fighting for the lives of the ones on your side, but believing that others’ lives matter so little, that_ your _life matters so little, you wouldn’t hesitate to give up on it. Besides,” he continues, voice just a rasp, “the war is over now.”_

 _Before Keith can react, the Blade leader is lunging. Sharp claws press into Keith’s shoulders and push him onto the hard floor, knocking all the wind from his chest. Keith can only lay there as Kolivan shifts back, watching him closely as he struggles to fill his lungs. “Are you done?” Keith finally wheezes, dark eyes glinting with animosity. At this, Kolivan surges forward again, landing a solid blow to Keith’s jaw. The ebony-haired male’s head snaps to the side with a crack and stars burst across his vision. A lock of thick, dark hair slips out of his short updo and into his mouth. Kolivan is lining up for another punch when Keith jolts upright and plants a kick straight to his commander’s cheek. Kolivan screams in outrage and springs to his feet, summoning his curved Marmora blade. Keith’s mouth twists bitterly, and he claws at the hair around his lips._ So this is how we’re doing it, _he thinks, before everything hurtles into chaos._

_The next eternity is filled with the sounds of fists connecting with skin and muscle, blades swinging, clashing, coming apart. The sickening crunch of bones being crushed. Fabric being sliced open with quiet rips. A dull thud as a merciless kick connects to its target with incredible precision. Heavy breaths as both struggle for control. Soon, red splatters the floor of the podship, glistening and slippery. Then finally, finally, a solid body thuds to the ground._

_Pain flares in Keith’s side. Blood froths in the back of his throat as he groans, clapping a hand to a wound in his side where crimson is already soaking through his Blade uniform and trickling past his fingers. His vision wobbles and black edges his consciousness._ Not like this, _Keith thinks._ I’m not giving up like this. _He summons the rage that has kept him going for all this time and slowly, painstakingly staggers to his feet again, taking pleasure in the sight of Kolivan standing hunched over, seemingly in just as much pain as Keith. The ebony-haired male clenches his teeth, jaw flexing._

_“I quit.”_

_Kolivan looks up in alarm. “What? No. I will not allow you,” the commander orders. “This war may be over, but there is still much to do. You must learn your lesson here and proceed with your Blade duties.”_

_Keith spits at the ground._ “No. _I’ve gone along with all your stupid missions for nearly five years now. This war is over and so is my inclination to assist you. I joined the Blade for answers, but all I’ve gotten for the past five years are mission after mission, order after order to kill, to control, to gain, none of which gets me any knowledge. I’m not putting up with all your pointless regulations anymore. I’m going where my life actually matters to others.” Keith glares fiercely at Kolivan’s stunned face. Already, a brash, desperate plan has formed in the ebony-haired male’s mind. He draws his knife and points it at the wall just behind the Blade commander._

 _“I’m through with your bullshit. This, Kolivan, is good-fucking-bye.”_

_With one swift movement, Keith launches the knife at his destination. Kolivan stands stock still, overcome by enraged shock. The knife whizzes past his head, barely missing it by an inch, and hits the button on the wall behind him with a dull thud. Keith scrambles to the pilot’s seat and straps himself in as alarms begin to blare and red warning signs materialize on every screen in the podship._

_There is only silence as the airlock slides open and sucks Kolivan into the merciless vacuum of space._

━━━

Keith startles to consciousness when he is abruptly ejected from the cryopod. The glass covering dissolves in a cloud of cold air, and Keith breathes again. His legs suddenly feel weak, no longer suspended by the contents of the pod. Keith stumbles forward and is falling, falling, falling… until warm arms envelop his frame. Keith sags into the stranger’s hold and mumbles a thank you, too exhausted to blush. 

“Hey, you feeling better?” The stranger questions worriedly. Keith glances up at his face and is once again struck by the unnerving feeling that he knows those eyes. “I’m-yeah. I think,” Keith replies haltingly. “I, uh. Want to lie down somewhere.” At those words, the stranger snaps to attention. He helps Keith shuffle out of the med bay and into the lounge next door, fussing over him the entire way. With a fond sigh and faint memories of sitting with Team Voltron after a long mission, chattering and bantering like the oldest of friends, Keith slumps down into the couch-like structure cut into the floor. _I wonder where Team Voltron is now if not on this ship anymore,_ Keith thinks with a touch of sorrow.

The stranger lowers himself onto the couch beside Keith, gaze trained on the ebony-haired male. Keith pretends not to notice and closes his eyes, tipping his head back. “‘M so tired,” he mumbles softly. He hears the stranger huff out a small chuckle beside him. “I don’t blame you,” the stranger remarked. “I remember my first time in one of those things. It’s like you’re barely conscious, but just enough to notice how goddamn chilly it is in there, y’know? I’m pretty sure the healing pods use some sort of weird Altean witchcraft to physically take the energy from your body and use it to heal yourself quicker, which would explain the exhaustion after you leave it. I remember not even being able to walk properly for a week after my first time in one. Not that that’ll happen to you, I mean-it’s different for everyone...” Keith begins to tune out after a moment of the stranger’s nonstop rambling. He’s so incredibly tired. Keith’s ears feel stuffed with cotton. His brain too, for that matter. Before the ebony-haired male knows it, the weight of sleep is gently pulling his eyelids down and he dozes off. 

The next time Keith wakes, the stranger is no longer sitting beside him in the lounge. In fact, Keith isn’t even in the lounge anymore. He’s in a dark room, nestled into warm blankets on a small bed. The mattress is comfortable and once again, Keith is hit by a strong sense of coming back home. _But you don’t belong here anymore,_ a stubborn part of him protests. _You don’t belong with these new people in the Castle. This is no longer your place._ A pang of remorse hits Keith and he crawls out of bed, suddenly feeling like an intruder. 

The movement sensors built into the walls detect the ebony-haired male shifting to a standing position, and the lights flick on automatically. When Keith can see past the abrupt, glaring luminance, he takes a good look at his surroundings - and reels. There, hanging on the small clothing rack by the door, is a red and white cropped jacket. His red and white cropped jacket, from five distant years ago. From his time as Paladin Keith, a part of Team Voltron. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

Keith lets out a startled noise, eyes wide, and whips his head towards the desk pushed up against one wall. Sure enough, his dark grey shirt and black pants from then are on the tabletop, folded and rolled up neatly; just how he’d last left them. Another glance and Keith spots his boots standing at the foot of the bed, ready for him to shove his feet into them and go at any given moment. The only thing missing are his gloves, worn into a Blade mission years ago and shredded in the process. Otherwise, not a single thing is out of place. _Even after all this time._

Then the question hits him. Why had someone taken such care to keep his room this well maintained for five years? Who had done it? Had Team Voltron instructed the new people to do so before they left the Castle? 

Confusion clouds Keith’s mind and sends a bout of dizziness coursing through his brain. Wobbling, Keith shakes his head distractedly and slowly, and makes his way to his clothes on the desk. He's almost hesitant to put them back on. _How will they react when they see me?_ Will _anyone react?_ But with a glance down at the creamy, skin-tight suit the healing pod has encased Keith’s body in, he gives up on his internal struggle and tugs on the shirt and pants. The clothing is significantly tighter than the time Keith wore them last, no longer hanging off the ebony-haired male’s body loosely. Five years of fighting and intensive training alongside the Blade of Marmora have solidified and enhanced Keith’s muscles, shaped him into even more of a wiry soldier than he was before, although his height has remained more or less the same. Despite the lingering sense of uncertainty in Keith’s mind at wearing his old clothes, the ebony-haired male feels more comforted than he has in weeks. He slips his boots on, unsurprised to find that his feet haven’t grown a single inch either in the last few years. Keith relishes the feel of them clacking softly on the hard floor as he walks over to his jacket. The last piece of home. 

Putting on his jacket is like embracing an old friend. Keith sighs contentedly as the wide sleeves slide over his arms. The jacket settles onto his shoulders and sits a bit differently on his torso, but the comfort is still there. He tugs his long hair out of its messy bun and re-does it into a short ponytail. Feeling slightly like his old self, his happier self again, Keith leaves his room. 

Immediately, he hears hushed voices drifting into the hallway through the lounge door. This time not only the voice of the blue-eyed stranger speaks. A higher, more feminine voice is talking rapidly as well, tone agitated. A second later and a sharp, robust voice cuts in almost jokingly. Something tickles Keith’s memory at the bold voice. Someone he once knew? The inkling disappears as soon as it had come when the lounge door slides open and the blue-eyed stranger marches out. Instantly, his dark eyes land on Keith in a rapid once-over, no doubt taking in the clothing he’s put on. Keith braces himself for a flurry of objections and orders to change back into his old getup, but none come. Instead, an extremely complex look crosses the stranger’s face; a mix between immense pain, lingering melancholy, and something else. Something more… personal. The stranger’s mouth opens and closes once, twice, and then he’s grabbing Keith’s wrist and pulling him into the lounge.

A man and woman are seated on the couches and they look up with alarm when the doors slide closed behind Keith and the stranger. Keith’s eyes roam over the two other people. The woman is incredibly beautiful. Her snow-white hair hangs above her shoulders and is clipped back by a tiny device of some kind. Smooth chocolate skin brings out her colourful eyes. She wears a loose white blouse and a blue and golden skirt that conceals her feet. She casts Keith a wary look when he steps into the room. 

The man has salt-and-pepper hair, and a carefully trimmed moustache sits on his upper lip. He is dressed in blue, white and golden attire, much like the woman. His face is deeply wrinkled, all the stress and toil over the years marking itself into the man’s skin. Despite his greying hair and worry lines, the man seems to be made of hardly contained liveliness. It almost makes him appear young.

This time, something tugs insistently at Keith’s mind. The ebony-haired male’s forehead creases, searching for words and names that are just out of reach. _I know these people,_ he thinks, before the stranger ushers him over to sit down across from the two people. Keith diverts his attention to the stranger. _I know him, too._

“Hey. Uh, nice… clothes. How are you feeling?” The stranger finally speaks, almost looking awkward. 

“Better,” Keith mutters offhandedly.

“Who… are you?” The greying man questions in that curious, bold voice of his. Keith frowns deeply. _Greying ginger hair… ginger. Why is that familiar?_

An uncomfortable silence stretches out in the room as Keith ignores the man’s inquiry. There’s a patch of fog in his mind, hiding a large chunk of his memories. Memories overpowered by repetitive purple walls and armour-clad Marmoran soldiers. In his head, Keith reaches out, grasping for something, anything that will help lift the fog. 

“Er… hello?” Keith hears the woman say. A melodic, slightly accented voice.

_Click._

Keith feels his entire world crash and burn around him, then immediately build itself back up, good as new. “No way,” he whispers. His heart rabbits desperately, hopefully, clinging to a realization that has snapped into place in his mind. His head pounds with this realization, this discovery, and Keith knows that everything is about to change. 

“What? What’s the matter?” The greying man fusses, leaning towards Keith worriedly. “You look like you’ve just spotted a Freblovian morronk!” Keith jolts at the strange accent in his voice as well. _There’s only one person I knew who uses words like that._ With trembling nerves, Keith slowly lifts his head to stare at the people before him. He feels burning tears pushing at the back of his eyes.

“Allura,” Keith whispers. “Coran.”

And…

Keith turns to gape at the stranger standing over him. Caramel skin, navy eyes, unruly brown hair; all are so changed from five years ago-yet so achingly familiar at the same time. Keith almost feels stupid for not recognizing him the moment he laid eyes on him. 

_“Lance,”_ Keith breathes. His heart skips a beat.

At once, the people before him turn sheet white. Eyes widen and mouths drop, until Keith is faced with three matching faces of disbelieving wonder. He’s sure his face is a mirror of theirs. An incredulous silence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity before the stranger-Lance-is speaking. 

“Holy hell,” he rasps. “Holy crow, holy quiznak, holy shit... _Keith?”_

Keith cannot speak, for fear of bursting into tears, so he only nods; once, twice. 

“Oh my,” Coran mumbles, and then three sets of limbs are upon Keith, crushing him to the couch. “Keith-You’re back, you’re-oh-” Allura sobs incoherently into the ebony-haired male’s shoulder. Coran wails loudly and paws feebly at Keith’s back, and Lance, pressed flush against Keith in the middle of the tearful hug, just wraps his long, long arms around Keith and holds him. Before long, hot tears are escaping from Keith’s indigo eyes and rolling down his cheeks, soaking into his clothes, into Lance’s clothes, pooling on the seat. Keith’s heart pangs with sorrow and relief and the ache of missing someone desperately. The four of them cry hard and unflinching, equally feeling all the worry, the stress, and the lingering melancholy in their veins from the time they fought the same war millions of miles away from one another.

The four reunited soldiers embrace each other and weep for eternities, before Keith hears the lounge door sliding open again and a confused sound coming from the doorway. Keith manages to poke his head out from the cocoon of bodies and spots a slender figure with long, tawny hair and round spectacles perched on a button nose. Freckles litter their pale cheeks and they carry a green and white helmet under their arm, wearing a look of utter bafflement on their features. 

“Pidge,” Keith whispers hoarsely, and then Lance, Allura and Coran are swivelling their heads towards the petite frame. Their faces light up at the sight of the Green Paladin and Lance is yelling through sobs, “Pidge! It’s-It’s-” 

“-IT’S _KEITH!”_ Coran finishes. Keith watches Pidge’s face morph into astonishment, then disbelief, then bewildered joy, and then they’re letting out the shrillest scream Keith’s ever heard. 

_“HUNK!”_

Instantly, loud footsteps are rushing down the hall and coming to a stop beside Pidge. Keith lets out a new sob as Hunk, the most unchanged of them all, pants heavily and levels Pidge with an alarmed gaze. “Wha-What’s it?!” The dark-skinned paladin yells, but Pidge is already throwing their helmet to the floor and running into the group hug. They pry all the bodies away with incredibly strong fingers, tears leaking out of their amber eyes even before they land on Keith. When Pidge sees Keith, they shriek again and surge forward, attacking Keith with a brutally tight hug and equally powerful sobs.

Hunk stammers at the doorway, “Wh-Who-What’s-?” 

This time, Keith himself emerges from the group hug with Pidge still clinging stubbornly to his waist and raises a hand tearily at the Yellow Paladin. “Hunk,” Keith chokes out, before Hunk dashes to the group with a booming yell that shakes the ground and engulfs everyone in a fierce bear hug. Keith is once again squashed against Lance with everyone else encasing the two of them. 

Lance manages to whisper secretly, “Five years of war have turned you ten times more attractive,” before he bursts into a new bout of tears. A strangled, half-sob half-laugh bursts from Keith’s mouth, and his heart pounds even more violently at the Cuban boy’s words. _What does that even mean?_ Keith wants to ask, but no sound leaves his mouth. 

The six of them tremble and shake and hold each other, their emotions spilling over like a waterfall breaking free from a dam. It floods their hearts and warms their bodies, and Keith knows that he’s found his family again. Eventually the group slowly breaks free from the hug, wiping away tears and sweat and snot. They sit in a haphazard pile and lean into each other, feeling complete again. Well… almost complete. 

Allura touches the device that holds her curly bangs away from her face and says shakily, “Shiro? Come in, Shiro.” Keith feels his whole body jolt. In the midst of all the commotion and tearful reunions, the ebony-haired male has almost forgotten about his closest teammate and brother, the person who anchored him when he found himself floating too far away. 

“Shiro,” Keith rasps brokenly, and then again, as if testing the name on his tongue to make sure it was real. _“Shiro.”_ The room has gone respectfully silent. 

A staticky voice cuts through the silence, and Keith barely stifles a sob when he can barely recognize it as the tenacious team leader’s. Shiro’s voice is scratchy and worn, and his words are spoken with a great amount of weight. Keith can only begin to imagine how much stress the leader of Voltron must’ve undergone in the past five years of battle against the Galra. 

“Allura? What’s wrong?” Shiro replies, sounding worried. 

Allura looks fondly exasperated. “Nothing’s wrong,” Allura replies. “Except for the fact that you’re not here to see Keith again.” She's met with stunned silence on the other end. 

“... Keith?” Shiro finally asks, voice sounding oddly strangled. Keith inhales deeply.

“It’s me, Shiro.”

Suddenly, the line cuts. Allura glances at her device in surprise. 

“Huh?” Hunk tilts his head, confused. The other paladins wear matching expressions of bafflement. Keith’s heart sinks. 

“Perhaps Shiro didn’t want us to hear him crying!” Coran declares cheerfully, always the voice of optimism. “In fact, my tracker is telling me that the Black Lion is nearing the castle at incredibly rapid speeds. It appears Shiro is doing everything in his power to reach you as quickly as possible!” 

As if on cue, a loud thump shakes the whole castle, followed by a series of faint thumping and whirring noises. A far-off mechanical roar shakes the castle. Soon, footsteps are dashing down the hall and towards the lounge. The six of them wait in eager silence. Keith is sure that his heart will beat right out of his chest if it gains any more speed. 

Suddenly, the door is kicked down with a protesting screech. “Ah, have to get that fixed,” Coran mumbles softly, before Shiro leaps into the room and halts in front of the semicircle of people on the couch. 

The leader of Voltron has aged significantly in the past five years. Shiro’s face is more drawn, his cheeks hollower than the last time Keith saw him. There are a considerable amount of new scars on the team leader’s face. Shiro has begun to grow his hair out; he no longer sports a neatly trimmed undercut but orderly, straight hair that rests below his ears. Dark circles ring the Black Paladin’s eyes, which are dull with exhaustion. Sadness floods Keith’s chest at the sight of him; formerly alert, prepared, ready-not the fatigued shell of a soldier that he has become. 

Nonetheless, a fire lights in Shiro’s inky eyes when they rest on Keith. The team leader lets out a strangled noise, eyes wide, and Keith’s legs start moving of their own accord, flinging him into the paladin’s outstretched arms. Then Keith is being embraced tightly. Keith buries his face into Shiro’s shoulder, letting fresh tears soak into the his armour. “You’re back,” Shiro breathes, sounding choked. Keith nods into the team leader’s shoulder, too overcome with emotion to say anything in response.

The two of them break apart after what feels like years, staring at each other with open emotion. The rest of the team looks on fondly, unable to tear their eyes away from the two closest members on their team finding each other again. Then the initial shock wears off, and Keith is being surrounded by all the paladins as they rush forward with exclamations of worry and speculation, frantic questions and teary admonitions.

“Where have you been this whole time?!”

“We tried to establish a comm link for a year!”

“Oh, we were so worried…”

“You’ve been with the Blade this whole time?”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“You look so different, what the hell!”

“Were you in any danger? I mean like, yeah, it was a war, but like, near-death situations?”

“No lie, I was starting to think you were dead, but then it was like, this is Keith we’re talking about, he doesn’t just die, but at the same time I was like, this is _Keith_ we’re talking about, who never thinks before he runs headlong into danger… oh god.” 

Lance’s last comment makes Keith’s chest hurt just thinking about it. The ebony-haired male abruptly realizes just how much worry he had caused his own teammates. After Lotor had shown up so many years ago at the battle at Naxzela, demanding an alliance with Team Voltron, Keith had been whisked away by the Blades, not to speak to any of the paladins or Coran again. Keith had been baffled at this notion, but as always the Blades did not provide any answers or information that would satisfy his desperate need to know if everything was okay with his former team. Keith knew none of it was his fault, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he should’ve done more to try to contact his team-his family. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith finally says, breaking the commotion. All the paladins fall silent at his words. 

“I’m so sorry I caused you guys so much stress. The Blades took me away after Lotor showed up, and I just… wasn’t allowed to communicate with you anymore. I tried to find out why, but…”

Lance’s face twists in mild fury. “Goddamn Blades,” he hisses. “‘Knowledge or death’, they say, but still act like their mouths are taped shut even when you survive through a fucking _war.”_

“I don’t serve the Blade anymore.” Keith says curtly, recalling his tussle with Kolivan on the podship. “They may have been fighting for the right thing, but that doesn’t mean they were decent people.”

“Wow,” Hunk remarks. “I’m... not sure I wanna know what you went through.” At this, everyone piles on top of Keith again, this time with silent respect. Under all the heavy limbs, Keith smiles despite the lingering heaviness in the air.

━━━

Once the waterworks and hugging are over, everyone sets about making Keith feel at home again. (Not that he needs it.)

Shortly after the team separates, Hunk claims Keith and drags him to the kitchen, where he practically bounces off the walls preparing his finest alien dish for the ebony-haired male. Hunk’s food, as usual, is scrumptious. He boils up a steaming noodle soup that smells vaguely of cotton candy but tastes like chili peppers and something else, fiery like lava. Keith gobbles it down greedily, relishing the spices on his tongue while Hunk rambles quickly about some of the crazy things the team’s gotten themselves into over the years.

When Hunk finally lets Keith go, the ebony-haired male sports considerably brighter eyes and a full, warm stomach. He then bumps into Pidge in the hallway, who pulls him into their room to show him all the weird inventions they, with the help of Hunk, have managed to put together from ‘random space junk’, in their words. Pidge excitedly rambles on as they hold up each invention close to Keith’s nose with a shine in their eye. Finally they pull a device the size of a peanut out of their pocket with a dangerously mischievous smile, claiming it is a surveillance camera that they had used to gather loads of blackmail on every person in the Castle. Their reply when Keith asks to see if only, “Later, later!” 

Keith learns that Pidge’s brother, Matt, had left the Castle shortly after the battle at Naxzela to rejoin his rebel group and do his own part in ending the war, and visits the Castle in between missions. Pidge manages to establish a video comm link with Matt and Keith is faced with the rebel fighter’s frantic blubbering and grabby hands wanting to reach through the screen and hug him. 

As Keith leaves Pidge’s room, he feels relieved that the war hadn’t seemed to dim the Yellow and Green Paladins’ spirits. 

Later on, Shiro finds Keith wandering the castleship and sits him down to fill him in on all the chaos that has occurred on Team Voltron since he’d gone with the Blade. The Black Paladin admits that the team had run into several near-death situations in the past and had been dealt many near-irreversible blows, if the increased scars all over Shiro’s body were anything to go by. Keith grimaces in understanding, sharing his own gruesome experiences with the Blade. The two sit together for hours, relieved that they’re back in one place. 

Keith gets pulled aside by Coran later on, who declares excitedly that he has a surprise for Keith. The formerly ginger man practically drags Keith to his chambers, where he reveals with a flourish the castle mice, who perform a little show to welcome Keith’s arrival back at the castle. Feeling significantly in higher spirits after the performance, Keith leaves and heads to Allura’s room by the bidding of Coran, where the princess gasps and exclaims and and flits about Keith with some unsettling Altean tech that pulls at his hair and skin. She then slathers a slimy alien concoction all over Keith’s face, claiming that it would remove the greyish pallor his skin had taken on during his time with the Blades. When Keith stares at Allura through it all with a look of utter confoundment on his face, the princess merely says haughtily, “I can be good for things other than kicking ass and bossing people around, you know.” After washing off the strange goo, Keith walks back to his room and stares at his reflection in the mirror, content with the fact that he looks more like himself than he has in many years. If he concentrates hard enough, he can even pretend he is someone whom war had not touched at all. 

The set nighttime inches closer and closer and Keith feels more and more exhausted with every passing minute. The toll the healing pod had taken on him earlier is coming back full swing, nudging his eyelids shut every few seconds and pushing all the energy from his body until the ebony-haired male trudges to his bed and sinks down into the oh-so-comfortable sheets, giving in to the tiredness that makes his body feel like lead. 

It is only when Keith is half-conscious that he realizes he hasn’t seen Lance at all.


	2. someone take me home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya boi is back (finally) with the conclusion to this stupid fic. 
> 
> tw: mentions of keith’s attempted suicide on naxzela starting from _“-Is that why you nearly sacrificed yourself?” Keith looks up at the sound of Lance’s voice._
> 
> enjoy!

_"Show me the most damaged parts of your soul,_  
_and I will show you how it still shines like gold."_  
\- Nikita Gill

━━━

The next morning, Keith wakes up to the sound of someone sharply knocking on his door. He reluctantly rolls out of bed, groaning at the lingering ache in his side when he does so, and throws his new clothes on. “Come in.”

The doors slide open and who else but Lance is standing on the other side of it. It takes a moment for Keith to recognize the Blue Paladin, clad in swim trunks and looking like he hasn’t slept a single wink. Keith still reels every time he sees how different, how much… _older_ Lance looks now. The childish seventeen-year-old from the last time Keith saw him is completely gone. Nonetheless, Lance smiles tentatively at Keith. “You look like you need a wake-up call. Go for a swim with me?” 

“I could say the same to you.” Keith raises an eyebrow. “But the last time we tried to-” He’s surprised at himself for even remembering such a small, trivial moment.

“-Yeah, I know, but I figured it out. It really isn’t hard-there’s this button on the wall, right? And it does something, shifts the gravity slightly or something, and you don’t even have to try to float. I’ll show you. Ah, that is-only if you want to-” Lance cuts off abruptly, looking endearingly sheepish. Keith tries not to stare too obviously at his face. 

“Yeah,” Keith finally answers, mustering a small smile of his own. “I’ll go with you. Just let me get changed.” 

At his words, Lance’s mouth curves upward in another smile that restores a fraction of light into his eyes. “Meet you by the elevator, then.” And then he’s gone.

Keith stays rooted in his room for a moment more. He can’t help but feel like something isn’t quite right with Lance. His former teammate seems… muted. Like looking at a candle through frosted glass, its flame reduced to a barely perceptible smudge of colour. Keith isn’t sure why this bothers him so much.

The ebony-haired male catches himself stalling too long and rummages through his small dresser until he finds a pair of red swim trunks. Keith throws them on and dashes out the door, not bothering with a towel. His heart pounds with a quiet rush of excitement as he meets Lance at the elevator and the two of them get on.Keith brushes off any lingering apprehension he feels at this new, different Lance. Something may have changed in his former teammate, but something has definitely changed in Keith as well. 

“Glad to see you’re looking more alive now,” Lance states jokingly, nudging Keith. 

Keith’s shoulder tingles at his touch. “Thanks,” he replies flatly.

Their conversation stalls after that, and a painful silence settles over the two of them as the elevator soundlessly makes its descent. Keith is wildly aware of his thundering heartbeat and Lance’s presence looming beside him. He swipes a clammy hand through his unruly hair and clears his throat. Awkwardness blankets them like a fog. Suddenly, Lance turns to him, looking like he wants to say something. 

He opens his mouth. “Uh-”

All at once the lights in the elevator flicker once, twice, and shut off with a quiet _click._ Before Keith can say anything, the elevator is jolting roughly and coming to a stop. There are a few stunned moments of silence in the pitch blackness before Keith is uttering, “There’s no way. That did not just happen.” His mind whirls with deja vu. 

He can practically hear the grin quickly forming on Lance’s face. The Blue Paladin’s next words smile. “But it _did,_ my darling,” he drawls loudly, hooking his elbow through Keith’s. Keith feels his neck warm involuntarily, and his entire arm tingles where affected by Lance’s touch. Suddenly, a snippet of Pidge’s words from the day before resurface. _I linked the castle’s security system monitors into my phone a while ago. I told Coran it was to have the happenings of the castleship on hand at all times in case of danger, but I think we both know why I_ really _installed it._

“Did you plan this with Pidge?” Keith asks, trying not to smile. 

“I solemnly swear that I had no part in it.” Lance presses his hand to his chest dramatically. “But now we’re stuck in this elevator. Whatever shall we do?” 

Whether Lance had this arranged or not, Keith decides to go with it. “What a shame. Looks like we’ll just have to… _climb,_ ” he states in return, ignoring the sliver of fondness that slips into his tone. Lance’s laugh is short and startled. The former Blue Paladin hooks his other elbow with Keith’s so they’re back to back. Warmth floods Keith at the affectionate memory of the first time they’d been forced to scale the walls in this position only to arrive, exhausted, at a pool that threw them to the ground the moment they touched the upside-down water. 

“I wonder if you’ll make us fall this time,” Lance states playfully, to which Keith only scoffs, “Me? Didn’t happen last time, won’t happen now.” 

Without another word, Keith and Lance climb out of the frozen elevator and plant their feet on the wall, supporting each other while suspended. 

Keith is astonished at how quickly he and Lance manage to scurry up the elevator chute. No words of “Right, left, right, left, right-no, _right_ foot, you idiot,” are uttered even once. They clamber up the walls perfectly in sync, the gleaming metal walls blurring at their speed. The duo climb past the small hatch that is their destination without noticing, only to find out twenty or so steps above it when Lance glances down curiously. With short, knowing laughs, the two drop into the hatch and whiz through the tunnel that leads to the pool, whooping and hollering.

The moment he splashes into the cold, cold water, Keith feels himself plummeting through it and towards the dry ground underneath it. Just like last time. With a jolt of panic, he kicks desperately in a fragile attempt to keep himself afloat. Then Lance’s hand shoots out and latches onto Keith’s arm. A small stream of bubbles fly out of Keith’s mouth when he is suddenly yanked upwards. Lance glides through the water effortlessly, towing Keith along, and punches a tiny button on the wall. Keith feels something shift in his stomach, and then he’s floating, face breaking through the surface of the water. He feels weightless. 

The ebony-haired male gasps gratefully, pulling air into his lungs. Lance surfaces seconds later, already grinning widely. He turns to face Keith, water droplets shimmering in his hair and rolling off his skin, his eyes vivid shades of blue, and _beams._ Keith can only stare, momentarily speechless, as his heart kicks fiercely in his chest. _You’re_ so _far gone,_ a small voice in Keith’s brain states bluntly. _Shut up,_ Keith thinks back. 

“Uh… Keith?”

Keith snaps back to the present, where Lance is staring curiously at him.

“Oh-s-sorry,” Keith stutters. “Just… distracted.”

Maybe it’s just Keith’s imagination, but Lance’s cheeks colour just the slightest bit. “Alright,” the tanned boy responds hesitantly. Only then does Keith become hyper-aware of the fact that he’s still holding Lance’s hand. The former Blue Paladin seems to notice this at the same time, and with a splash, the two of them pull away from each other as if scalded. The air grows thick and awkward. After a pause, Lance coughs and, without warning, sends a huge wave of water surging at Keith and drenching his face with a loud _splash._

Keith sputters and chokes, wiping the sting from his eyes, and raises a challenging glare at Lance. “Oh, it’s _on._ ”

What begins as a fierce water fight soon turns into both parties splashing tamely at each other, shrieking and laughing uncontrollably until their sides burn. Both seem to have forgotten about maintaining their silly rivalry from two years ago, or maybe they no longer care about it, focusing only on diving in and out of the water and swimming lazy circles around each other until their heads spin. Eventually, Keith and Lance pull themselves up onto the pool ledge where they sit shoulder to shoulder, panting. Once they’ve settled down, something heavy settles in the air between them, full of emotions unfelt and words unspoken. 

After a sated pause, Lance opens his mouth. “You look really different,” he says quietly. 

It’s not what Keith is expecting. “I-Uh… I could say the same for you,” he replies haltingly.

Lance huffs out a laugh through his nose. “What’s this anyway? You decided to grow your stupid mullet out?” He reaches out a hand to tug at Keith’s ponytail. 

Keith flinches on instinct, leaning away without thinking. He doesn’t miss the shattered expression that crosses Lance’s face before the sharpshooter masks it.

“Ah-I-I’m-”

“-Forget it. Sorry, I did that without asking.” Lance cuts Keith off. “I know you’re not the touchy-feely type.”

His words poke at something in Keith’s chest. The ebony-haired male feels his heart sink. He feels like he’s broken something fragile, something almost reachable until he’d pulled away. 

Keith rushes to change the subject. “I… I’m glad to be back,” he starts softly, pushing wet bangs from his face. “It feels like home here.” Keith lets the weight of the truth settle in the air with a contented look on his face.

“But you still left.” Lance’s voice is so quiet Keith barely picks up on the words the tanned boy says.

“What…?”

“It didn’t feel enough like home-” Lance states, “-for you to stay.” He shifts so he faces Keith. The ebony-haired male sees mildly concealed hurt in Lance’s eyes. 

“All of us… the Castle… Voltron… it didn’t stop you from leaving.”

Keith blanches, suddenly speechless. “I-I-” _What?_ “Where’s this coming from? That wasn’t it, you know it’s not-I didn’t have a choice-”

“-I wasn’t talking about Naxzela.” 

Keith realises what Lance has been nudging at this whole time. His body grows rigid. 

“No! Lance, you know that I left Team Voltron because I was needed more elsewhere, which in this case was with the Blade of Marmora,” Keith scrambles to explain, feeling unreasonably panicked.

“ _Do_ I know that, though?” Lance’s eyes are dull, no longer alive with the joy that had illuminated them only moments before. “I’ve been trying to have fun, but every time I look at you, you’re so… it’s like you’re a completely different person. It’s like-it feels like you didn’t… think we were good enough. So you left. And it took you _five years_ to come back.” 

Keith frowns, frustration beginning to simmer in his chest . “ _What?_ Lance, you _know-_ ”

“-You keep saying that, Keith! ‘I know’. But I’m really starting to think I don’t know anything! I thought you were happy here, with us-but where did that end up going? I thought you’d come back after the quintessence mission with the Blade because I thought you still cared about being with us. Who knew that the day you went on that stupid mission would be the last time any of us saw you for the next five years? So no, I don’t ‘know’, Keith. All I’ve been doing is getting everything wrong. So I want to know, now; why? Why did you leave us? What made us not good enough for-”

“-Why do you think that so stubbornly?” Keith grits out, surprising even himself with the harshness in his tone. “You think I left because I thought you were all… _insufficient_ or some bullshit? If you’ve been wrong about anything, it’s this.” Keith inhales. 

“Look, I wanted-I _needed_ to leave, because I knew I was no longer of any use to Team Voltron the moment Shiro came back and reformed his bond with the Black Lion. There was no place for me here. I couldn’t fly a lion, I didn’t know how to help operate the Castle with Coran, I couldn’t fix any broken mechanics like Hunk or Pidge… the only thing I could do was fight, but I wasn’t even able to that when Shiro came back. And me- _lead?_ What a joke.The only thing I’d been good for as the Black Paladin was forcing the entire team into suicide missions without thinking and putting everyone in danger. I felt _trapped_ in the Castle, unable to do anything while everyone else risked their lives every day to save the universe. And I thought, _There are so many lives at stake. And what am I doing, just fucking_ sitting _here-_ ” Keith breaks off, breathing heavily. Lance is eerily silent beside him.

“I just-I felt like I was never built to be someone who worked in a team. But with the Blade of Marmora it was different. It was every man for himself, and I felt like maybe I was doing something other than being a waste of space, and-”

“-Is that why you nearly sacrificed yourself?” Keith looks up at the sound of Lance’s voice, and the Cuban boy looks completely crushed. 

Keith ignores the panging in his chest, and whispers, “I just wanted to help.”

“By _killing_ yourself?!” The volcano of hidden emotion finally explodes from Lance. His next words, like lava, pour out on their own accord, searing and hissing and burning. 

“I don’t care what the Blade told you about being dispensable, because as much as you may think that’s true, it wouldn’t be in a million years, Keith! You thought you were doing us a huge favour when you left, huh?! Well, maybe you don’t ‘know’ anything either! Keith, we were _wrecked_ when you left. Nothing was the same again. Nothing _is_ the same without you. We tried to do everything we could to maintain what little of yourself you left in the Castle, but it was never enough. The training deck got so silent-and I’d always look across the room, searching for someone who wasn’t there. And then you-you pulled that stupid _stunt-_ ” Lance breaks off abruptly, inhaling shakily and swiping fiercely at his eyes before continuing. 

“You aren’t invincible, Keith! And it _terrifies_ me just to think that you would even consider an option like that. I don’t care if you thought it was the best thing at the time for everyone else, for the war, or _whatever_ you were thinking, because _killing yourself_ should never be a choice. You’re important to us, Keith. We can’t function properly without you. You should’ve fucking _talked_ to us before just running away like that. We might’ve been able to help, or-or figure _something_ out to take your worries away. These past five years, the only thing that’s been keeping me going in this stupid war is the hope that maybe I’d see you again after it was over. You already left a huge fuckin’ hole in me when you left. If you-If you had really-” A choked sob slips from Lance’s lips.

“If you had really sacrificed yourself, I don’t know what I would do with myself.”

Keith freezes. Guilt floods his chest, waves of it crashing into him until he’s hunched over, fighting to overcome the tightness in his throat and the tears pushing against his eyelids. “I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Lance continues crying, hot tears landing in the pool and sending ripples across the water. Keith finally gives in and lets tears pool in his eyes and tumble down his cheeks. 

“You should be,” Lance finally rasps. “I’m _never_ going to forgive you if you pull something like that ever again.”

Keith hangs his head, shame squeezing all the air from his lungs. “I know,” he whispers in response. “I know.”

There is only devastated silence for a chilling moment as Lance’s sobs suddenly break off, and then the tanned boy is pulling himself to his feet with difficulty. Keith doesn’t look up as the former Blue Paladin’s footsteps recede into the distance before they disappear completely. 

Keith sits by the pool for a long time.

━━━

An hour later, all the Castle’s lights have been extinguished and darkness encroaches every nook and corner of the ship’s walls. Keith finds himself in front of Lance’s door, a fist raised to the metal. He knocks hesitantly, once, twice, before the door slides open. It reveals an exhausted-looking Lance. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are red-rimmed and cased in shadows. Keith’s heart pangs at the sight, and he can’t help the remorse he feels when he realizes that he’s the cause of Lance’s pain. 

“Can I come in?” Keith questions softly. Lance’s only reply is to turn, walking deeper into his room and sinking down on his bed with his back to the wall. Keith follows suit, settling tentatively beside the tanned boy. The two sit in silence for some time before Keith asks, “Are you still mad at me?”

His words hang tight and unanswered in the air for what feels like an eternity before Lance’s gaze shifts to the ebony-haired male. “No,” Lance whispers, eyes shining in the dim lighting of the room. Keith isn’t sure he believes him.

“I just… want to explain. Everything.” Keith inhales shakily. 

“At the battle for Naxzela, I didn’t- _couldn’t_ -think properly. All I could do was sit there, listening to you guys panicking as you tried to fly away from Naxzela’s imminent detonation and feeling like I couldn’t do anything to help the situation. It was like… I’d left Team Voltron to not feel like a waste, yet there I was, feeling exactly like that again. I got so-so _frustrated_ at myself, at Zarkon and his stupid witch, and I started panicking because I thought you and everyone else were gonna fucking _die_ , so I just thought-I thought flying at the ship’s shield really would do something. It was like my body was moving on its own. But then Lotor came in and shot the shield, and I-” Keith scrubs at his face, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone at the memory of sitting in his small podship after Lotor had rescued them all, feeling like someone else was controlling his body.

“-I came to my senses. I realized what I was doing, and-god, I was _so terrified_ at how involuntarily I’d almost given my life. So, in response to what you said; no, I didn’t think I was dispensable. I still don’t. But then the Blade took me away and that’s all that I heard. _You are dispensable. You are nothing in comparison to this war we’re fighting, just another soldier who will be sacrificed to the cause._ Still, I don’t think I ever really believed that. I guess that was the reason I fought Kolivan in the end. And-”

“-Wait. You _fought Kolivan?_ ” Lance’s eyes are wide when he finally speaks. 

“Oops,” Keith mutters half-heartedly. “I should’ve told you guys. The reason I’m back is because I got sick of Kolivan’s bullshit rules and got into a fight with him on a podship and may or may not have thrown him out of the airlock.” 

Lance snorts and replies, “Serves him right. I’m glad you’re okay.” 

_I’m glad you’re okay._ Keith marvels at how easily the words roll off the former Blue Paladin’s tongue. “I’m-thanks. I guess… I, ah, I’m glad you’re okay, too.” 

“D’aw, that wasn’t so hard to say now, was it?” Lance coos jokingly, nudging Keith’s shoulder. 

Keith flushes a bright red. “Shut up.”

Lance grows serious. “I… have something I need to say too.” He starts. “I shouldn’t have freaked out at you earlier. You didn’t deserve that, and I should’ve stayed and talked things out instead of storming away. I’m just... I’m sorry.” 

Keith is so taken aback that he doesn’t reply for a long enough time to have Lance stating, “Hey, don’t look _that_ surprised that I’m apologizing for something.”

“Oh-I-that wasn’t, I was just…” Keith trails off, unable to find words. 

Lance scoffs jokingly. “Is it really such an event when I apologize for something? Gimme a little credit here.” 

Keith laughs. “That’s not what I meant. I forgive you, and I’m sorry too-for making you worry.”

“Enough of this mushy talk,” Lance intercedes. He tugs Keith down until they lay side by side on the bed. Something has shifted between the two of them; Keith can feel it. It’s as if he’s teetering on a line that separates two very important, very different things. But he feels safe with Lance pressed against his side, so shifting to tuck his head into the crook of the former Blue Paladin’s neck only feels natural. 

Lance tugs the thick sheets around them and Keith snuggles into the warmth that surrounds him. “I’m glad you don’t think about sacrificing yourself anymore, even if it’s for the ‘greater good’ or whatever,” Lance whispers. Keith nods against Lance’s neck. “Even if you still scared us all halfway to hell, which I imagine is at least seven or eight universes away. I don’t think even the seven of us on this ship could keep an eye on you at all times.” Lance’s eyes sparkle, but he suddenly hesitates, jaw going slack. “That is-You _are_ staying with us, right…?” 

Keith rolls his eyes. “Of course, dumbass. Can’t actually stand being anywhere else for more than five years, apparently.” 

“That’s not funny,” Lance states, but snorts anyway. “Come closer.” 

Keith huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Any more pressed up to you and we’ll meld into one person. One very unstable person.” 

Lance only sighs condescendingly, as if he knows more about cuddling than Keith. “I know more about cuddling than you,” Lance says. “C’mere.” Then he wraps long, long arms around Keith and pulls him to his chest, and Keith’s breath catches in his throat. 

“When did things get like this?” Keith mumbles off-handedly, drunk on the warmth of the sheets and the steady, grounding beat of Lance’s heart. 

Lance makes a small, thoughtful sound. “I dunno. I think I win, though, because I’ve wanted to do this specifically with you ever since I first sat behind you and stared at the back of your dumb mullet in Chemistry.” 

Keith’s eyes widen. “The _Garrison?_ ” He breathes disbelievingly. “You win.” 

Lance lets out a laugh and squeezes Keith harder. Keith can only hope Lance doesn’t feel how hard his heart pounds against his ribcage. “Are you always this loud when you cuddle someone?” Keith opts to say instead. 

“Well… this may be my first time?” Lance states it like a question.

Keith laughs. “Great, glad to know I won’t be the only hopeless one in this relationship,” he replies. He realizes his mistake only a beat too late when his response is silence, and he buries his face in his hands. “Oh god, I-I’m so sorry,” Keith stutters. “That just slipped out without me thinking, I won’t-” He’s interrupted by Lance grabbing his arms and turning him so he’s nose to nose with blue, blue eyes. Keith finds himself staring mesmerized into Lance’s face. _You’re so beautiful,_ Keith thinks. He hopes with all his heart that he’ll be able to say it one day. 

“After all the shit that’s gone on, how could I say no to being able to have something like this?” Lance’s voice is almost giddy, and Keith can’t help himself. He leans in and kisses Lance. 

At once, all the jumbled stars inside him shift into place, until he’s left with a sky full of constellations. The confusing, nonsensical thoughts and feelings that Keith didn’t even know he’d been harbouring for so long begin to make sense. A fog lifts from his brain as his lips press into Lance’s and Lance presses back. _I like him. I think I might love him,_ Keith realizes. As if hearing this thoughts, Lance breaks the kiss slowly and presses his lips to Keith’s temple. “You mean so much to me,” Lance murmurs into the ebony haired boy’s skin. “Don’t go leaving again, okay?”

Keith almost laughs at the idea, now preposterous to him. “Not in a million years,” he whispers. “I’m done with running away from home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this honestly the longest thing i've written, it was only supposed to be like 2k but y’know how it goes. constructive criticism is appreciated!
> 
> also i’m sorry for the utter lack of matt holt, i just couldn't fit him in anywhere other than over a screen. this was kinda a mess but hopefully you enjoyed reading it! 
> 
> i [tumble!](https://mysteriico.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> i [tumble !](https://shakespeas.tumblr.com/)


End file.
